


Share the Bed, Share My Heart

by sapphic_ambitions



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphic_ambitions/pseuds/sapphic_ambitions
Summary: Filling a tumblr prompt: Sharing a bed for the first time / there was only one bed! (DUN DUN DUN)  We're not reinventing the wheel here, this is a classic trope fic. Puuuure FLUFF babey!
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 374





	Share the Bed, Share My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @a-gay-coded-villain

Five years.

Five years, they’d been traveling together.

Five years after they’d laid down their swords. Five years of stumbling through each other’s languages and stumbling along the countryside. Five years of trying to understand their affliction and coming up with no answers.

And five years of sleeping in the _fucking_ dirt.

“I’m just saying, we should at least look and see if the town has an inn before brushing it off,” Yusuf mumbled in Arabic, picking at his bread. “It never hurts to check,”

“You know that towns make me nervous. Too many people,” Nicolò responded, his Arabic sloppy, but doing his best. (Yusuf had picked up on Italian easier than Nicolò had with Arabic, mostly because the former merchant already had a few other languages under his belt.) He only glanced briefly up at his travelling companion, his chest tight with anxiety. Thus far, they’d kept to the outskirts of society, avoiding anyone who might become suspicious of them, and Nicolo was not eager to break that tradition. He didn’t see the point in risking their safety for something as simple as bed to sleep on when the ground was _right there_.

“I know,” Yusuf said, and Nicolò noted that his companion’s eyes were genuine and understanding. That was one of many thing Nicolò appreciated about him, that he never made Nicolò feel stupid for having these concerns. The look in Yusuf’s eyes made the knot in his chest loosen a little bit. It always did. “But it has been many years since I’ve slept in a bed,” Yusuf continued. “And I think we can take the risk,"

Nicolò sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t want us to get recognized or ambushed,” He said, switching to Italian, where he was more comfortable expressing how he felt. “We’re safer when we’re away from people,”

Yusuf could have debated him, and Nicolò knew that he could because the former merchant always had a way with words, but instead he simply stared at Nicolò from across the campfire. Stared with those pleading brown eyes, begging with the crinkles around eyes for Nicolò to see reason and well-

Nicolò could never say no to Yusuf’s eyes. 

Not when they crinkled like that.

He huffed and poked at the fire with his stick. “Fine,”

Yusuf cheered.

Yusuf was the one to get the room, because he could speak fluently to the innkeeper in his native language, and Nicolò could only speak passing phrases of Arabic. So instead he waited outside, leaning against the wall with their bags until Yusuf came back with a twinkle in his eyes and a bounce in his step.

“A _bed,_ Nicolò,” he said, slinging his arm around Nicolò’s shoulders and leading him towards their room. “We get to sleep in a _bed_ tonight,”

Nicolò’s heart started beating faster at the touch.

It was fine. It was nothing. It was casual. 

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” he mumbled back in Italian, trying to make his voice sound relaxed and not like he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Yusuf tutted at him. “Come now, Nicolò,” he said, matching Nicolò’s tongue and his eyes crinkling. “Maybe you will be less cranky when you’ve had a good night’s sleep,”

Those fucking crinkles.

Nicolò shoved Yusuf off of him, causing the other man to laugh, and Nicolò hoped it covered the blush that had crept up his face.

 _Not_ that he was blushing. He was _not_ blushing.

He was _not._

Yusuf teased him the whole way to their room, but when he opened the door, he fell silent and stood frozen in the door frame.

Nicolò frowned, unable to see over his companion.

“Yusuf? Is something wrong?”

“I, um,” Yusuf said. “I may have forgotten to mention one detail to the innkeeper when I was reserving a room,” He turned around and gave Nicolò an uneasy, sheepish smile, which was extremely unlike him and only increased Nicolò’s worry. 

But then he saw over Yusuf’s shoulder, into the room, and-

There was only one bed.

There was only _one_ bed.

Nicolò turned his steely gaze to Yusuf, who was rubbing the back of his neck, his eyebrows expressively high with embarrassment.

“I might have forgotten to mention that I had a travelling companion,” He said.

“So I’ve gathered,” Nicolò said, walking into the room and surveying the rest of it. Other than the bed shoved in the corner, it seemed standard and fine. 

Except for the fact that there was only _one bed._

“I can go back and ask him for-” Yusuf tried to say as he shut the door behind them, but Nicolò shook his head.

“We don’t need to risk him remembering your face,” He said, scuffing at the rug next to the bed with his boot. “I will just sleep on the floor,”

Yusuf crossed his arms. “Absolutely not. I won’t have you paying the price for my mistake. You can take the bed,”

The corner of Nicolò’s mouth twitched upwards. “Yusuf, you have been complaining about sleeping in the dirt for the last five years, and there is finally a bed in front of us. You must take the bed, I insist,”

Yusuf grinned, and it lit up his whole face. “We seem to be at an impasse, my friend,”

Nicolò crossed his arms too, mirroring his companion. “Well, what do you suggest?”

And then Yusuf, who had always been very direct with his words for as long as Nicolò had known him, looked down at the floor, looked at the bed, then looked at the wall and said: “We could share the bed,”

Nicolò’s heart fell into his stomach in a swoop so massive that he nearly choked on his own spit. He coughed ruggedly, trying to clear his throat out as he felt his cheeks grow warm _again_. He couldn’t look at Yusuf, couldn’t let his embarrassment be so blatant on his face, so he quickly turned to fuss with his back and what little belongings he had. “Share the bed?” He said once he could properly speak again, trying to sound casual.

Because it was casual.

This was casual.

This was fine.

It wasn’t like he’d been in love with Yusuf for _years_.

It wasn’t like he didn’t spend every waking moment feeling like his heart was going to rip out of his chest the longer he looked at Yusuf. Wasn’t like he often caught himself staring too intently at Yusuf’s muscles, wasn’t like he had vehemently protested Yusuf cutting his curls, wasn’t like the slightest touch between them made his palms sweaty and his throat dry, wasn’t like he would do _anything_ just to see the crinkles around those eyes.

“Nicolò? Are you alright?” Yusuf asked, in that genuine voice he always approached Nicolò with, that voice that made his head fuzzy.

Nicolò decided that he had two options.

He could strongly protest the idea of sharing the bed, fling himself to the floor and refuse to get up again till the morning, he could shut off any possibility of something _more_ between them here and now, once and for all. 

Or.

“I’m fine to share the bed,” He mumbled in sloppy Arabic, his back turned to Yusuf.

He didn’t know that he wanted to see the reaction.

Yusuf cleared his throat. “Great, that sounds great to me,”

And then they were silent. 

Which wasn't entirely unheard of, for the two of them. There was a three month period at the very beginning where they travelled in complete silence. There were some weeks that Yusuf missed his home more fiercely than usual, and was quiet as they travelled. Some days where they moved together in a comfortable silence as there was nothing to say.

This, however, was not one of those times.

The tension in the air was thicker than blood as the two men readied for bed, Nicolò aimlessly sorting their belongings and Yusuf washing his face in the basin in the corner.

Which, Nicolò made the mistake of looking over at him just in time to see Yusuf splash his face with water, lips slightly parted, water glistening through the curls of his beard and Yusuf turned his head ever so slightly to-

To make eye contact with Nicolò, who was staring at him.

Nicolò looked away so quickly he might have gotten whiplash.

If he were the type of man to curse, he would have brought down the heavens by now.

“So, which side do you prefer to sleep on?” Yusuf asked, patting dry his face with a cloth.

Nicolò shrugged, trying to maintain casualty. “I have no preference,”

“Good,” Yusuf said with a chuckle. “Because I prefer the left side,”

And then there they were, the two of them standing next to the bed.

Just standing there.

Nicolò wanted to die a little bit, but only because he knew he would pop right back up.

“Um,” Yusuf said, running a hand through his curls. “After you?”

Nicolò looked at the bed, and then back at Yusuf. “You should probably get in first, since the left side is against the wall,”

“Right,” Yusuf said sheepishly. “Wouldn’t want to climb over you,”

More silence.

Nicolò prayed for mercy.

Yusuf clamored into bed and climbed under the sheets, leaving plenty of room for Nicolò to slide in after him and pull the covers over the both of them. 

Nicolò blew out the candle, and then there they were, laying on their backs with barely a hair’s length between them, shoulder to shoulder.

And Nicolò was barely breathing. 

He didn’t realize how hyper aware he would be of someone else in the same bed as him. And they couldn’t touch, obviously. That would make it weird. And he didn’t want to cross the invisible line dividing the bed and also didn’t want to fall off the bed, so he laid as still as humanly possible. Were they human? And would Yusuf wake up if he moved a little bit to reposition and lay on his side? What if Yusuf rolled over and knocked him off the bed? What if Yusuf had to get up in the middle of the night and crawled over him? What if Nicolò accidentally crossed the line while he was sleeping? What if Yusuf woke to them touching and freaked out? What if _Nicolò_ freaked out and made it weird? What if-

“Nicolò?” Yusuf’s voice was softer than the wind. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” He responded.

He heard Yusuf inhale, and Nicolò could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he carefully chose his words. “I am glad that we found each other,” Yusuf finally whispered, in gentle Italian, almost like he was extending an olive branch in speaking Nicolò’s language. “Sometimes I think that...” He continued. “I think that my blessing isn’t this immortality,”

Nicolò swallowed. “Then what is?”

“My blessing is that I found you,”

Nicolò turned his head to see the shape of Yusuf in the shadows, Yusuf who was already staring at him. It was too dark to see the crinkles, but Nicolo knew that they were there. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have Yusuf’s knack for words, couldn’t spout off poetry that could perfectly capture how he was feeling, didn’t speak Arabic fluently enough to extend the olive branch back.

But there was one thing he knew how to do. 

He surged forward and kissed Yusuf.

The response was _immediate_. 

Yusuf pulled him closer and Nicolò’s hands immediately went to those beautiful curls he spent all day staring at. They moved in perfect synchronization, lips moving as one and Heaven Above, it was _perfect._ It was everything Nicolò dreamed a kiss would be. It was everything he dreamed Yusuf would taste of. It was _everything_.

When they did pull away, gasping for hair, Yusuf knocked their heads together.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” He said, and Nicolò laughed.

“How long?” He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Yusuf kissed the tip of his nose. “Since that time you fell off your horse near Marseille,”

“ _No,”_ Nicolò groaned, hands going up to cover his face. “You can’t be serious,”

“I am,”

“That was one of the most mortifying moments of my life,”

“And the moment I knew I had fallen for you,”

“Oh, God,”

“Much like you fell off the horse,”

_“Yusuf,”_

_“Nicolò,”_

“You’re _lying_ to me,”

“I’m not, _habibi_ ,” Yusuf laughed, pulling Nicolò in to kiss him again. “I would never lie to you, I swear it.”

Nicolò grumbled in Italian to that, but couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.

“When did you know?” Yusuf asked in return.

“Always,” Nicolò answered immediately. “I’ve always known,”

“Oh,” Yusuf said with a soft voice, cupping Nicolò’s jaw. “That is a very long time,”

“Almost as long as you’ve been sleeping in the dirt,” Nicolò quipped back, and the two of them dissolved into laughter again.

“I am glad that you kissed me,” Yusuf admitted when they finally settled down again. “I wasn’t sure we were ever going to have that,”

“You have all of me,” Nicolò said, turning his head to kiss Yusuf’s palm. “As long as you will have me, as long as I live, I am yours,”

“That is a very long time,” Yusuf said again, rubbing his thumb against Nicolò’s cheekbones. “Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been of anything,”

“Then I am yours, as well,” Yusuf whispered. “For as long as we have on this Earth, for as long as we live to see another sunrise, you will have my heart,”

Nicolò pulled him in for a kiss again, and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until sleep crept upon him, and then he fell asleep in Yusuf’s arms.

And he slept peacefully for the first time in years.


End file.
